


Height Issues

by Circle616 (CircleUp)



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-04-11 07:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21530833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircleUp/pseuds/Circle616
Summary: Peter and Wade go Christmas tree "shopping" in November.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 105
Collections: Secret Santa 2019 Presents





	Height Issues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [J_Linz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Linz/gifts).

"It's so short!" Wade exclaims.

They're Christmas tree shopping and, and Peter feels like this information is an absolutely vital addition, they're Christmas tree shopping and it isn't even Thanksgiving yet. 'What if the tree burns down, Wade,' he'd asked. 'What will we do then?'

'We'll buy a new one!' Wade had said, and he'd seemed so genuinely excited about this new concept of purchasing multiple Christmas trees that Peter hadn't had the heart to argue him down.

Peter usually gives in when it comes to Wade anyway. It's easier, on just everyone. All people, strangers included, have a much easier time when Peter just lets Wade do whatever it is that Wade is going to do anyway but without Peter's permission. So now they're out in the wilderness, because tree lots aren't open yet because, again, and Peter feels like this is something he's going to be repeating a lot about this, it isn't even Thanksgiving.

"It's a sapling," Peter says of the tiny tree Wade has selected out of an entire forest of them to coo around, brushing its springy branches with loving fingers. He's dressed in a sweatshirt with a hood he can pull up when they're in the city for some privacy, but out here he's let it fall down. Peter takes a moment to let himself be fond of his stupid, bald, scarred head, of the way Wade is grinning ear-to-ear at the tiny tree. Peter can already tell they're taking home this sapling.

"Even for a sapling it's short," Wade argues, ready to die on this hill.

"Let's get a bigger tree," Peter tries to encourage, and reaches out to tug at Wade's wrist.

Wade says, "It's short enough for you to decorate though!" with the unrepressed delight of someone who knows he's being naughty and can't wait to be punished for it. When Peter doesn't bite, Wade helpfully clarifies: "Because you're short."

Peter pauses, and then moves with a lightning-quickness. One moment Wade is next to him and the next he's on his back on the earthy forest floor, with Peter straddling his hips. "Who's short now?"

"Still you," the mercenary breathes, fisting a handful of Peter's light jacket to draw him down for a kiss, since he's already mostly there.

The forest floor is cold from an early snow melt, wet. It soaks through Peter's jeans where he's kneeling, and he breaks the kiss to stare down at Wade. "Aren't you freezing?"

"I'm warmed by the light of my life above me," Wade begins, poetic, and Peter's long-suffering sigh isn't enough to cut him off. "My sun, my star—"

"Alright, Shakespeare. C'mon." Peter climbs off of him and helps Wade back to his feet, brushing leaves off his back. The backs of his pants and sweatshirt are wet and a little dirty, and Peter sighs. "You're gonna catch a cold."

"Can't get sick, baby boy," Wade coos as he wraps a heavy, warm arm around Peter's shoulders as Peter mutters something about refusing to believe that. "So whatcha think?"

"I think we should wait until December."

"But I have a present for you already!" Wade whines. "I need a tree to put it under!"

Peter has to resist pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd never realized how very possible it was to be both exasperated and very won over at the exact same time. "We can get a _fake_ tree—"

"No fake trees!"

"—and put an air freshener on it. One of those pine car ones," Peter continues, ignoring him. "And then you can put yourself under it."

Wade twists to gape at him. "Gasp. You think the present is little ol' me?"

"It's the only thing I want," Peter answers, and he's so sincere that Wade's taken aback, but only for a moment.

The next thing Peter knows is he's being pinned to a much larger tree than that sapling, his back to the trunk, but he's five feet in the air somehow as Wade _hauls_ him up and maneuvers Peter's legs until they're over Wade's shoulders. This gives Wade the perfect view of Peter's cock.

Except: "You forgot to take off my pants," Peter notes once he's recovered from this shock and figures out where Wade is trying to go with this. He's unable to bite back a grin.

Wade frowns. "You're right," he decides. "That's my bad," and he leans his head forward to mouth at Peter through the cloth. It shuts Peter up, and Wade is free to proceed at his leisure, nuzzling against Peter as he slowly hardens, the movements never enough.

When Peter has enough of this, he groans. "Put me down so I can—"

"Nope!" Wade kisses his shaft where the fabric stretches the tightest against it. "You're gonna have to figure something out."

Peter's solution is, in the heat of the moment, to tear at the button of his jeans, and he tugs them too hard open. Maybe it's on purpose, though it does seem like an accident, because Wade has never seen Peter actually lose control of his super strength, but it rips the cloth clean down the center, freeing him.

Wade is absolutely delighted as Peter's leaking cock springs free. "Commando?!"

"Just suck me already," Peter groans, frustrated, and Wade is ever obedient to his baby boy's commands. He mouths up his shaft with soft, wet kisses until he reaches the tip, then none of it's slow. He's taking Peter down to the root with a hum like it's a treat, and Peter cries out in relief and agony.

Wade can't move Peter and Peter can't really move, the way they are, so he's left having to fuck his own mouth over Peter's cock, bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks sometimes to change the sensation. He pulls Peter to the edge a few times, tastes the precum building on his tongue, only to break the rhythm and slow down for a few agonizing licks.

Peter wants to explode, and can't, and wants to stay like this forever. He doesn't know what he wants. His whole body is hot, warmth pooling low in his belly, in his cock that Wade sucks down so greedily. Peter wants to tell him then, there in the forest while he's being taken into that hot mouth, the three words he's been trying to say for months now.

"I," he begins, choked out, straining. Wade looks up at him with his lips stretched and spit-slicked and Peter loves him so much and he can't do it. He doesn't know why. "I'm not short," he breathes, and Wade makes a noise like a laugh around him and speeds up and Peter's over the edge.

It's a flashbang, his body electric and then limp. Distantly he registers being moved down, being put on his feet, being held against a warm chest. Distantly he registers the cool breeze on his ass from his torn pants. Wade hugs him into his chest and Peter can hear the deep, pleased smile in his voice.

Wade says, "I know."

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for Ko.


End file.
